


Careful What You Think

by ForgottenChesire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fergus MacLeod has never like Soulmarks. Annoying, tacky things, he’ll sniff at anyone who mentions them. How on earth are you supposed to know who thought at you for goodness sake, he’ll sass rolling his eyes. His opinion on Marks is, of course, in no way, shape or form because of his own. He has no problem- none at all- with the messy handwriting on his tailbone- of all places!- that proclaims he talks funny. Clearly, his Soulmate is a Yank.</p><p>Sam, on the other hand, loves Soulmarks. Loves what they stand for and what they bring. He longs for what his father had with his mother. Though the words he has cause him a bit of apprehension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wistful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilyAnson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAnson/gifts).



> Crowley meets Sam at a very young age but nothing happens until Sam is older! There are no demons or anything Supernatural going on.

Fergus MacLeod has never like Soulmarks.  _ Annoying, tacky things, _ he’ll sniff at anyone who mentions them.  _ How on earth are you supposed to know who  _ **_thought_ ** _ at you for goodness sake,  _ he’ll sass rolling his eyes. His opinion on Marks is, of course, in no way, shape or form because of his own. He has no problem- none at  _ all _ \- with the messy handwriting on his tailbone- of all places!- that proclaims he talks funny. Clearly, his Soulmate is a Yank. No his problem likely stemmed from his mother though he’d never admit it. His Mark was just a… happy coincidence. 

 

They say that you get your Soulmark the moment your Soulmate thinks it. Crowley- as he prefers to be called- is twenty-six and looking for his son, Gavin- the product of a friends-with-benefits relationship- when a tingling sensation tickles across his tailbone. Thinking it's one of the parents stuck in the same greasy hell as him, is getting frisky, he straightens to his full height- not that it's too much taller than some of the mothers- and turns around. A polite and cutting response is on the tip of his tongue to fend them off, only there isn't anyone there. So he pushes it to the back of his mind and stares at the monstrosity in front of him. Of course, his demon of a sprog is in the bloody ball pit. And because Gavin is the pure evil that comes from switching houses every week he refuses to leave the thing when called. It's almost embarrassing,  _ almost _ , thank god Gavin isn't yelling at the top of his lungs like some of their lungs like some of the other children. One of the children in the pit gets called and unlike Gavin and the others, the kid starts moving.

 

_ God, why can't Gavin be as well behaved as you? _  Crowley thinks watching the boy run to his father. He’s a cute kid as far as children who aren’t his go. He’s not much for children. Noisy, rude and often spoiled to the point that they think they rule the world… That works to describe his own sprog but he at least tries to rein his in. It takes ten minutes to get his sprog out of the infernal pit of plastic balls covered in germs, and five minutes to wade through the ocean of screaming children and damned parents to get to the exit and therefore freedom. Cool air hits his face and he swears that he will never step foot into  _ Chuck’s Cheesy Chalice _ ever again. His resolve lasts until Gavin comes home from his mother’s and is full of restless energy but that is neither here nor there. What matters is that the tingling sensation and the well-behaved child is pushed out of his mind. In fact, he remains clueless that he has a Mark for a month and a half.

 

It’s during one of his scheduled meet ups with Gavin’s mother, Naomi Angelo with whom he has a type of frenemies-with-benefits thing going on, that the Mark is noticed. The high pitched noises that she makes as she tosses things at him once she catches sight of it ring in his ears far more than the dreaded phrase. 

 

“What the fuck is that?” Naomi yells, her voice hurting his ears. He should have known it wouldn’t have worked out between them just by the fact that her voice often makes him want to do the childish thing of covering his ears and yell ‘la, la, la, can’t hear you’. She reads it out loud before the shock wears off and the anger sets in.

 

_ He talks funny. _ What kind of first thought is that!? Bloody Yanks! Items are thrown and Crowley slinks off to meet up with his best friend.

 

Cain as his nature seems to think good food and even better drink is the best way to get over any upset. This means that while his wife is away they get pissed while watching Doctor Who.

 

“Oh come on now. It can’t be that bad.”

 

“It can and it is.”

 

“Tell me what it is.”

 

“No.”

 

Their words are slurred almost beyond recognition but they have this down to an art. Cain starts to pout at him which is just ridiculous. 

 

“You are a grown man, not a puppy, stop that.”

 

“Then tell your best friend what your Mark is! I told you mine.”

 

And showed it to him too. The image of the curling words on his best friends inner thigh will never leave him.

 

“Fine! He talks funny! That is my Mark.”

 

For a moment he thinks Cain won’t laugh. But then the man’s cheeks puff out and loud guwaffs leave the man. Crowley smacks Cain with a pillow.

 

“See if I tell you anything ever again!” he exclaims taking a swig of his drink. He passes out not to long after that and wakes with a killer headache.

  
Years pass, rather lonely years as most of the American population seems to think that you can’t have sex with anyone who is not your Soulmate once you’ve gotten your Mark, and while Crowley doesn’t hate his Mark, in particular, he does, in fact, hate them. He hates the nebulousness of them. He hates how should you not find the person who  _ thought _ at you quick enough you are doomed to a spinster for the rest of your days. And then he meets a young man, who is ironically twenty-six, at a coffee shop. He’s handsome and tall. So much taller than himself that if Crowley were a lesser man he’d feel intimidated. He can’t tell the color of the man’s eyes but his hair is floppy and long. Not exactly in need of a cut but maybe a trim to keep it from getting frizzy. But the most damning thing in Crowley’s mind? There on his right arm, right above his hand is the phrase he thought at a young child so long ago.  _ Bloody hell. _


	2. A Chance Meeting

Sam Winchester loves Soulmarks. His parents were matched Mates, his brother Dean delights in telling him. Even grumpy, old, uncle Bobby has a Mark that makes him smile. To Sam, it doesn’t matter that he won’t know  _ who _ thinks at him, just that someone  _ will _ . That there is someone who will understand him more than anyone else in the world will. Someone who will love him forever. That somewhere out there, there is a person who will be the only home he will never want to leave. Thinking that way, naively some will say, is the only way to stave off the twisting, turning, burning feelings that come, that settle, whenever they move.

 

He’s ten years old when his Mark comes in. A tickling sensation that travels up his arm and makes him laugh. His dad sees the writing work itself on his skin and when they get back to the hotel they are staying in- they don’t get homes anymore, not since mom died in a fire- dad tells him the story of how he met mom. Sam listens, entrapped by how alive his dad looks. Hands gesturing and smiling as the story unfolds.

 

“I bumped into her Sam, and the moment I thought ‘Holy crap, she’s beautiful,’ it appeared on her shoulder. She was wearing a tank top and the ugliest pair of plaid shorts I’ve ever seen but her eyes Sammy, her eyes were stunning. And then she starts blushing and laughing as my shoulder- the opposite of her’s- is tingling. I look and it says ‘ I wonder if his hair is as soft as it looks,’ and I start laughing.”

 

The story trails off and Sam watches as his dad goes quiet. It’s not the good quiet either. It’s the dark quiet where his dad gets sad and angry at the world. It’s the quiet that usually ends with Dean reading books to him out loud to try and cover up the crying.

 

“Losing your Soulmate is horrible Sammy. Sometimes it’s best not to know them.”

 

His dad is looking at his Mark, at the words written in elegant script. 

 

“And something tells me I won’t like your Mate.”

 

It doesn’t surprise him when they leave Stanford the next day. Doesn’t surprise him that they go far away. Sammy hates it though and cries for two states, nothing can make him happy. Dean doesn’t understand why this move is harder than the other ones but then Dean doesn’t have his Mark. 

 

“Don’t hate dad.”

 

“I don’t. I love him… I just wish we would stay somewhere Dean. I… Want to be normal.”

 

“Where’s the fun in that? Come on, we get to see more of the country than most.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

When he turns eighteen he moves back to Stanford. Part of him hopes that his Soulmate is still there, another part doubts it. They aren’t the reason why he came back, not entirely. Stanford has a great Law program, one that he got a scholarship too. Dad understood, for once he didn’t try to control what went on. He just smiled a tight lip smile and nodded when Sam stated that he was leaving. Dean had left a few years before, moved back to Sioux Falls with uncle Bobby to work part time as a mechanic and also volunteer as a firefighter but dad still has Adam. Little Adam who is only his half brother but god does he love the little blond like he does Dean.

* * *

 

_ “I want to be a lawyer.” _

 

_ “You’ll be a great one, Sam.” _

 

_ “I ha- what?” _

 

_ “You’re a grown man Sam. I can’t keep dragging you along, searching for odd jobs. You and me, we may be a lot alike but we have one big difference.” _

 

_ “What’s that dad?” _

 

_ “You’ve got your life ahead of you.” _

 

_ “Dad-” _

 

_ “No Sam, you do. You’re eighteen, you’ve got your Soulmate out there somewhere. I know I haven’t been the best dad but-- I remember where you got your Mark. You search for them, you hear me? And you spend as much time with them as you can.” _

* * *

 

While getting a  bachelor degree can take as little as two and a half years to complete he decides to go slow and stretch it out to four. During this time he works part time in a coffee shop and rubbing elbows with the professors. He meets Jess. She’s beautiful and perfect in every way except that she isn’t his Soulmate. They still date for two years but it feels wrong, even to Jess. The breakup, when it happens, is pleasant. There is no screaming or cursing. No yelling or proclamations of hate. And blissfully no thrown objects. Jess asks him later why he thinks there would be and he tells her stories of the misadventures of Dean’s dating.

 

He’s twenty-six and recovering from last year of Law school when it happens. He no longer works at the coffee house but sometimes he pops in to say hello to the owner, Gabriel when  _ he  _ walks in. The man isn’t someone most would notice. Decent height, a little round but it’s the eyes that draw Sam in. Head on they look brown but when the man turns his head and the light strikes them they change color. Gabriel clears his throat and when he has Sam’s eyes on him he raises an eyebrow. Sam rolls his eyes and pushes the shorter man back.

 

“Just make my coffee would you?” he snarks. Feeling someone stare at him Sam looks around and spots the man from before staring at his Mark. Normally Sam has no problem letting people see it. It shows the world that he has someone somewhere. But there is something in the way the stranger is staring that makes Sam feel odd-- what’s worse is he doesn’t know if it’s a bad odd or a good odd. Pushing it out of his mind he takes the coffee Gabriel slides to him and heads to the door. The man moves aside looking everywhere but him.  _ Wierd.  _

 

 

 


	3. Coffee Shop Debates

_ I need new friends _ , Crowley thinks as he watches Cain hold onto his stomach with one hand and the table with the other laughing.

 

“Oh, this is too good. Now, are you sure the boy is your Soulmate?”

 

“I hardly see how it’s funny. And rather sure yes.”

 

Cain straightens up, still laughing but looking more serious.

 

“You never know, maybe some other poor sap has a hellion named Gavin or, or-” Cain putters off into more laughter, “Maybe they were thinking of their sub!”

 

Crowley rolls his eyes.

 

“How on earth did I become friends with you again?” he asks the air fighting the urge to hit his friend.

 

“I’m the only one who wasn’t fooled by that prickly front you put on.”

 

Crowley’s arm stretches out and he smacks Cain.

 

“Boys behave,” Colette- his friend’s Mate- scolds gently from her place at the stove. She expertly flips pancakes onto her plate and walks over to the table. With her looking at him Crowley squirms.

 

“Did you at least talk to the boy?” she asks before slapping Cain’s hand away from her breakfast.

 

“No…”

 

“So you stared at him like a creepy old man?” Cain asks between hiccups of laughter.

 

Colette glares him down while Crowley covers his face. He had stared at the boy like a creepy old man. Not that he was  _ old, _ he’s only forty-two for goodness sake, but the staring probably didn’t help his case. Not that there  _ was _ a case.  He couldn’t even keep a good relationship with his son how can he expect to connect with the other.

 

“Darling. He’s your Soulmate. Even if you two don’t end up in love, you will be the best of friends. Platonic Soulmates exist, you know that,” Colette says softly. Even Cain has dropped his playful smirk. They are both too good at reading him.

 

“Yeah. You just need to talk to him. Give me some reasons why you shouldn’t at least do that.”

 

“I stared at him like a creeper the first time I saw him again,” Crowley says lifting up a finger, “The age difference won’t help me. I have no clue what his name is, which leads into the next point of I have no clue how to get a hold of him.”

 

“Friendship has no age limit. And just haunt the coffee shop.”

 

“Oh yes,” Crowley drawls, “that won’t make me look like a stalker at all.”

* * *

 

Crowley sighs as he sits at a booth in the far corner. How he allowed Colette talk him into this he hasn’t a clue. It’s been a week since he ran into the boy with what he believes to be his Mark here in the coffee shop.  _ Little Sips of Heaven _ is a quaint place ran primarily by what appears to be college students. The short barista from a week ago is behind the counter again flirting with a customer. Crowley huffs a laugh and shakes his head,  _ youth. _ He’s alone with his simple cup of tea to keep him company while he pretends to read something Cain shoved into his hands.

 

The words in the book are long and pretentious in Crowley’s humble opinion. A scholar tossed into the deep end and grasping at any big words that will make him seem credible. The few pages Crowley has read are as incoherent as Gavin’s rants when he was a sugar high little boy.

 

“ _ A Look On Soulmarks And Their Inherent Abusiveness _ ?” 

 

Crowley jumps at the unexpected voice and scowls at the book in his hands.

 

“Yes. A friend gave it to me. Probably hoped it would make me laugh,” he grouses before looking up. The breath he was about to take sticks in his throat at the sight of hazel eyes staring at him curiously. It’s the boy-man- that he was waiting for! The one with floppy brown hair and soft looking face.

 

“It’s an interesting take but I prefer  _ Understanding Marks And How Societal Expectations And Media Have Twisted Their Meaning _ by Castiel Novak.”

 

Crowley grins.

 

“I will have to try that book out then. As it is this one is boring me to tears with its circular narrative and constant use of three-syllable-or-more words. You can sit if you wish,” he says gesturing to the other side of his booth. The puppy- _moose really_ \- with his great height is holding a newspaper and a steaming cup of something in his hands.

 

“Oh. Thank you. I’m Sam by the way.”

 

“Fergus, though I would appreciate if you called me Crowley.”

 

Sam slides into the booth placing down his paper on the table and Crowley can’t help but to glance at the arm he saw the Mark on. Only today the arm is bare. He tries not to dwell on that too hard and instead focuses on the fact that Sam is handsome and sitting right across from him. It's wondrous and Crowley could kiss Cain for giving him the book.

 

“So why did your friend give you that book?”

 

“There are a few reasons. One being that while I am not the biggest fan of Marks I find people who scream the extreme spectrum that they take away our free will humorous. Another is that he often finds the most pretentious books to read and then expects me to suffer through them as well.”

 

Crowley doesn't preen at the fact he got Sam to laugh, he doesn't. Why would he? The two of them lightly debate the merits of Marks. Sam is for them, and his passion for them makes his whole face light up. They are so into their debate they don't notice the crowd around them or their empty cup. It's only when the barista clears his throat and raises an eyebrow- almost judgingly- that they notice anything.

 

“While that was fun to watch, it's time to close shop.”

 

“Sorry, Gabe.”

 

Gabe waves off Sam’s apology. Sam turns to Crowley.

 

“It was a pleasure debating with you,” he starts and at that Crowley does preen. Before he got into the literary agent business he considered being a lawyer just so he could argue with people. He never pursued it and he wonders if maybe that would have changed things with Gavin. Those years apart when he went to New York were hard. He mentally shakes himself and stands, hand outstretched.

 

“The pleasure was mine. Would it be too forward of me to ask to meet again?”

 

“Not at all. Wednesday maybe?”

  
“Wonderful.”

 


	4. Dreams In The Aftermath

Crowley jumps when his phone starts to ring. It plays that one lullaby from that even more depressing musical. Something about a castle in the clouds. He really has to stop leaving his phone down where Cain can get a hold of it.

 

_ “Well did you see him?” _ Colette asks as soon as soon as Crowley answers the phone. He sighs softly. Already he can see her vibrating in his mind.

 

“Hello to you too darling.”

 

_ “Don’t keep me waiting, Fergus. I had to promise Cain bacon for dinner to get to be the one to call you!” _

 

“Oh the horror of having bacon for dinner!” Crowley snarks rolling his eyes fondly.

 

_ “Fergus!” _

 

Crowley huffs a laugh.

 

“Yes, I saw him again. We had a riveting debate over Soulmarks.”

 

_ “Oh, Crowley, you didn’t…” _

 

“I did. It’s all thanks to the sham of a book Cain gave me. Now I have a… meeting with him again in two days.”

 

The loud squeeing noise Colette lets out has Crowley pulling his phone away from his ear. He glares at it, though his lips twitch at her happiness for his  _ possible _ happiness. Scuffling happens and he hears Cain’s low tones before Cain actually speaks to him.

 

_ “What did you do to my wife?”  _ the man asks with a playful huff.

 

“I told her I saw Sam again.”

 

“Sam?”

 

“That’s  _ his _ name.”

 

Again he has to pull his phone away from his ear as Cain swears.

 

“Nice! You going-”

 

“Yes. Now, more importantly, do you have a copy of  _ Understanding Marks And How Societal Expectations And Media Have Twisted Their Meaning _ ?” he cuts Cain off. Cain grumbles under his breath but Crowley can hear him moving about. It takes some time but soon Cain is talking again.

 

_ “I do indeed… Should I expect you dropping in on us tomorrow?” _

 

“If you two don’t mind me dropping in for a cuppa.”

 

_ “Colette would kill me if I turned you away.” _

 

Crowley laughs at the whipped tone in Cain’s voice and the two soon say their goodbyes. It’s only seven o’clock and his stomach decides to speak up and remind him that it’s time to eat. A world class chef he is not but he can make a mean box meal. Fattening and completely American, it’s filling and easy to cook.

 

His want to eat withers a bit when he spots a bright blue post-it note reminding him that Gavin will be coming over on Friday. He loves his son, but the bloody boy,  _ man _ his mind reminds him gleefully that Gavin is now twenty-two and no longer a boy, is a menace who seems to relish in making Crowley’s life miserable. Be it by getting in trouble with the law or backing talking and being a general pain in Crowley’s rear. On one memorable occasion, Gavin took a date of his to the publishing house Crowley works at, broke in and fornicated on his father’s desk. The point of that exercise Crowley hasn’t a clue other than the fact he had to explain to his boss why he didn’t think charges should be pressed. Though the sheer cheekiness of the act would have made Crowley proud of his sprog if it hadn’t been caught on camera.

 

With a shake, Crowley pulls himself from his thoughts on his son and goes about cooking his meal. It’s soothing following the instructions on the box and he wonders when his life went tits up with his son, apparently he can’t keep away from the subject. While he wasn’t the most attentive father Gavin had liked him well enough until he turned thirteen. Then something happened and daddy went from hanging the stars to cleaning the toilet and Gavin’s mother became his hero. He sighs tiredly and pulls the pot off the stove. Instead of thinking about his son he thinks about Sam, about how the man’s Mark disappeared. It was most likely covered with makeup. Crowley cringes as he remembers how he stared at the Mark. It had probably made the younger man uncomfortable and Crowley is surprised that Sam gave him a second chance. Dinner is a lonely affair and he goes to bed shortly after the dishes are done.

* * *

 

_ The lighting in the room is low but it doesn’t stop him from recognizing it as his own. It’s the person on the bed that give Crowley pause. It’s Sam in all his tall, lanky glory and he’s as naked as a newborn babe. There is some chocolate sauce, and strawberries on his bedside table. The lighting is low and Sam seems to glow so sweetly. _

 

_ “Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to join me?” Sam asks his arm stretches out and Crowley watches in fascination as the younger man dips his finger into the chocolate. It’s arousing in the best way and Crowley stumbles to the bed.  _

 

_ “You’re here,” he breathes and Sam laughs, brown eyes large and dark. Sam leans into him, nibbling at his neck. _

 

_ “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?” _

 

_ Crowley doesn’t answer that. Instead, he kisses Sam desperately, hungrily, and Sam kisses him back. Clothes are shed, quickly and without care. Crowley lets his fingers dig into Sam’s hair. Chocolate is poured and licked and bodies grind together in tempo with fastly beating hearts. There is no penetration but Crowley wouldn’t change it for anything. It’s more intimate than any sex he has ever had. They rest curled together and feed each other strawberries from the bowl, exchanging kisses.  _

 

_ “Next time I’ll bring lube,” Sam promises before grabbing what is left of the chocolate and he crawls down the bed and settles in between Crowley’s legs. By now chocolate is cold and the older man jumps as it is poured on his stomach and prick. Sam begins licking the sauce off of him. A moan builds in his chest and explodes when a hot heat engulfs him. His back arches and he claws at the bed beneath him. _

 

* * *

 

Crowley blinks awake and groans at the stickiness coating his pant legs. He had a bloody wet dream!

 

“Oh bloody hell,” he mutters covering his face. Hopefully, he isn’t entering a second puberty.


	5. A Call Before Coffee

Sam hangs up his cell phone and looks at it. Hope, joy, and determination are coursing through his veins, it will keep him in a good mood for a week. Even if the not-date later today turns out to be a dud. He bites his lip to keep from shouting his joy at getting a job. Johnson & Johnson & Angelo want him to be an associate starting next Monday. He does a little jig and twirls his phone around considering calling his big brother the news. If it's eight here in Stanford than it should be ten in Sioux Falls.

 

He's about to dial up his brother when his phone begins to ring.

 

"Hello?" he answers it without looking at the caller ID.

 

_ "Heya, Sammy." _

 

Sam blinks at the unexpected voice of his father.

 

"Hey dad, is everything okay?"

 

If there is more worry than most people would have for talking to their father they both ignore it.

 

_ "Yeah, I'm just visiting your brother. The kids have gotten big since the last time I was here. Anyways, I thought that since I could bum your brother's home phone I should give you a call. How are you and... Jess doing?" _

 

"I haven't been with Jess for a few years dad. I think you are thinking of Meg- who I was crushing on before I realized she was already engaged- Castiel- Meg's fiance- or Ruby," Sam says wincing at his own dating/crush history.

 

_ "Damn. Sorry son. How is Ruby?" _

 

"It's fine dad. And she seems happy, we aren't together anymore," and he means it when he says it's fine. He and his dad have never had the best relationship and he also knows how his dad is with phones which makes staying in contact hard.

 

"How's Adam?" he asks changing subjects.

 

_ "He's... He's good. Here with me in fact." _

 

Both try to ignore how stilted the conversation has gotten. John clears his throat.

 

_ "Anything big going on with you? _ " he asks and Sam smiles.

 

"Yeah. Something real big. Just got hired on at a law firm. They want me in next Monday."

 

_ "That's great! God, I'm so proud of you Sammy." _

 

Sam has to pull his phone away from his ear as his dad yells the news to his brothers. He hears the phone switch hands.

 

_ "You got a job now Sammy?" _ the voice of his older brother comes through the phone.

 

"Yeah, Cas and Meg slipped Lucifer my transcripts and apparently he fell in love," he says with a laugh.

 

_ "Hell yeah!" _ The pride in Dean's voice causes his heart to swell.

 

_ "My little brothers kick butt!" _ Dean crows and Sam laughs even harder,  _ "One is a lawyer and the other is gonna be a doctor!" _

 

"You're not too bad yourself Dean."

 

Dean scoffs.

 

_ "Anyways, how's your love life? Found your Mark yet?" _

 

Again Sam has to hold his phone away from his ear as his brother and father fight over who gets to talk to him. It gives him a chance to think over what he plans to say. And while he thinks he starts to make himself some breakfast.

 

_ "Well?" _ Dean asks, sounding out of breath from escaping their father.

 

“I haven’t. But I did meet someone.”

 

He bites back a chuckle when he hears Dean make a lot of noise to signify that he’s sitting down.

 

_ “Don’t make me beg little brother.” _

 

“His name is Fergus.”

 

_ “He’s not engaged is he?” _

 

“No. And that wasn’t my fault, neither of them wears their ring on their finger and their Marks aren’t visible… And neither is Crowley’s.”

 

_ “That isn’t good.” _

 

“It could be. I mean, he could not have a Mark at all. He stared at my Mark, though. We had a debate about them on Monday and we have a meeting today too.”

 

_ “You go, lil bro. I hope it works out for you.” _

 

“I do too. How about you? How are you?”

 

_ “I’m… We’re… Okay. To tell the truth, Sam, I’m glad as hell that Dad and Adam are here. Ben smiled today before he left for school.” _

 

“That’s good to hear. If you need me,” Sam starts.

 

_ “You will stay right there, you hear me? You just got a job, you don’t need to come riding in on a white horse to help me.” _

 

“Dean-”

 

_ “Sammy, I mean it.” _

 

“Fine, jerk.”

 

_ “Bitch.” _

They talk for a bit longer and he gets passed back to dad before he is given to Adam. When he hangs up the phone he feels both happy and drained, it’s easy to forget just how… active his family can be. He shakes his head and finishes his food. It’s mid-bite that he realizes that they never said what time to meet.

 

“Well, shit,” he mutters. To play it safe, he decides to show up an hour earlier than when he first ran into Crowley at the Cafe. Waiting until that time is killer, he feels like he did right before he told his dad he was leaving for college. His hands are sweaty and his heart is beating quickly.  _ This is ridiculous _ , he thinks despondently,  _ we’ve met twice! _ The second meeting was perfect, though. So few people enjoyed sitting and debating much of anything with him since he is a lawyer but Crowley matched his logical arguments with logic wrapped in sass. He had valid points instead of wild vague motions and while some of his points were more emotional than logical Crowley never made it like he looked down at Sam for being a fan of Marks.

* * *

 

“There’s my favorite customer of all time!” Gabriel calls out from his place behind the counter, he waves his hand excitedly. Sam rolls his eyes affectionately at the shorter male.

 

“And there is my least favorite barista,” he replies. Gabe pouts at him, batting his eyelashes.

 

“Is that any way to talk to the man who gives you half off your coffee purchases and didn’t tell his little brother about all the shenanigans you and his wife get up to when you had an off day?” the older man asks when Sam finally reaches the counter. Playfully Sam clutches his heart.

 

“You would use mine and Meg’s people watching against me?”

 

“Damn straight I would. I’m the black sheep of the family, have to figure out a way to curry favor don’t I? And speaking of currying favor,” Gabe wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, “What is up with you and that guy, Crowley was it?”

 

“Nothing yet,” Sam mutters, pulling out his wallet to pay. He doesn’t even have to tell Gabe what he wants anymore because he’s gotten the same thing for as long as he has been coming to  _ Little Sips of Heaven. _

 

“Is that why you’re covering up your Mark? Don’t want to scare him away?”

 

Sam bites his lip and wonders how to answer that. It was a reflexive thing he had done. After that first meeting, it felt like everyone was staring at his Mark. A paranoid notion maybe but one that he fixed by putting a little of the foundation that Ruby left behind. Why he kept doing it afterward is another story and a question he doesn’t have the answer for.  The door into the shop opens, the cheery bells at the top tinkling soothingly. 

 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Gabe whispers with a head shake knowing he won’t be getting an answer from Sam but he gives his friend a look that clearly says ‘this isn’t over’ which is ignored. Sam turns around, happily and maybe just a bit sheepishly greets Crowley.

 

“It appears great minds,” Crowley says- Sam doesn’t get just a bit lost in that accent- tilting his head, “A dreadful oversight on my part not to makes sure we had the time down.”

 

Sam waves that off and once Crowley has his coffee they go over to a booth to sit down. He nods at the book in Crowley’s hands.

 

“How did you like it?”

 

“What I’ve been able to read it’s been very interesting. The language was blunt and to the point without being insulting or dimwitted. The author brings up many valid problems with the media representation of Marks. Not bad for a Mark sympathizer,” the man winks playfully to show he doesn’t mean harm with the last statement.

 

“Yeah, Castiel spent years researching various medias to make sure he covered all the basics.”

 

Crowley’s eyes widen.

 

“You know the author?”

 

“He’s married to my friend and once-upon-a-time Ethics teacher. Castiel is a cool guy. A bit literal and has zero understanding of personal space but he’s a great match for Meg,” Sam says. He doesn’t know it but his face softens as he talks about his friends and a small smile spreads. It takes Crowley’s breath away. Sam shakes his head and they get back to talking, though they don’t just talk about the book. They talk about small things.

 

_ “Favorite music? Anything that isn’t blasted at the loudest volume.” _

 

_ “The Rocky Horror Picture show wasn’t that great.” _

 

_ “You take that back!” _

 

_ “Never.” _

 

They talk about big things.

 

_ “I have two brothers. One is actually a half brother but he’s blood.” _

 

_ “My mother was a hippy and it is very possible there are many people running around with her blood flowing through her veins.” _

 

Sam loves it. And if maybe he thinks about a possible future where he and Crowley exchange numbers and call each other often. Maybe even exchange flirtatious words, well that’s okay. He can see himself and Crowley being at least friends, the older man has enough sarcasm and wit to keep up with Meg on her bad days. The way Crowley moves his hands while he talks is distracting in the best way.

 

At some point Gabe comes by with snacks- on the house or on his tab, if he even has one, Sam isn’t sure. It’s easy talking to Crowley, and Sam just lets it rush over him. Only the nice, neat little bubble around them is shattered by a loud ringing. It’s Crowley’s phone and Sam watches as the other man answers it. Watches as Crowley’s faces whitens and turns ashen before he hangs up.

 

“I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this short. That was the A&E… My son was just in a car wreck… Would it… Can we… Next week? Same time and day?” Crowley asks worriedly his hands twitching.

 

“Of course! Of course, I hope he’s okay.”

 

It shouldn’t shock Sam as much as it does that Crowley has a child. You don’t have to be Marks to have children. All it takes is a look at Dean to know that. Emma’s- Dean’s youngest but only biological child- is proof as Lydia was in no way Dean’s Mark. He swallows helplessly as Crowley stands up to leave.

 

“Would you like my number just in case something comes up and you can’t make it?”

 

Crowley gives a weak smile.

 

“That would be marvelous.”

 

They exchange numbers and Sam watches him leave. There is a whistle him as soon as the door closes.

 

“Damn, hate to see them leave but love to watch them go.”

  
Without looking Sam reaches behind his back and smacks Gabe.


	6. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look here an interlude! Enjoy some Dean action while I figure out how to write Crowley dealing with Gavin.

Dean holds the official looking envelope with shaking hands.  _ There was always a chance that this could happen _ , Dean thinks. Lisa’s sister, Riley, warned him that the man her sister was seeing before him was making a fuss. That Elijah wasn’t happy that another man was going to be raising  _ his  _ son. The man who delivered the letter is long gone but Dean can still feel his eyes on him. Like a band-aid, he tears open the envelope and scans the documents inside. Even from the quick scan, the legal speak has his head spinning and he almost mistakes his cellphone ringing for his ears ringing. Dazedly he answers it.

 

"Woah, Sam calm down and talk in a decibel I can actually hear," Dean says holding the phone away from his ear. He feels special getting to talk to his brother twice in one day but Sam could not have picked a worse time.

 

_ "He has a kid,”  _ Sam says in a much calmer tone but there is still a hint panic in his voice.

 

"Who has a kid?"

 

_ "Crowley!" _

 

Dean looks down at the papers he really should be attempting to read, what with their legal speak and life ruining potential. But there is a desperate edge to Sam's voice that brings out Dean's big brother side. He takes a deep breath and shoves away from his dining room table. He has this innate need to protect, or at least that is what he has been told and his brothers bring that out nearly as quick as his children.

 

"Is that a bad thing? A deal breaker?" Dean presses trying to figure out the best way to calm Sam down. He paces slightly, phone resting between his ear and shoulder, the papers left on the table.

 

Sam doesn't talk for awhile and Dean lets him gather his thoughts. Doing the breathing technique Lisa taught him before she died. In through the nose, hold for five seconds, out through the mouth, rinse and repeat. And feeling accomplished when Sam copies it.

 

_ "It's not, at least not for me. But I don't know how old they are, and what if they don't like me?" _

 

"Have you met them yet?"

 

It's hard to believe that he has because as far as Dean knows today was the first date. Seems a bit early for a person to be introducing children, even if said child is older. But then this is Sam, no mortal man can withstand his puppy dog eyes. 

 

_ "No. But they were in a car accident so I feel we may meet sooner rather than later." _

 

"Sam buddy listen to me, cross that bridge when you get there. Don't ruin shit by overthinking things and making a complicated mess out of a molehill."

 

_ "Yeah... okay... you're right. When did you get so smart?" _

 

"Damn straight I'm right. And I've always been smart, bitch."

 

_ "Jerk." _

 

"Feeling better?"

 

_ "Yeah. Thanks, Dean." _

 

"No need for thanks, baby bro. Now, I hate to cut this chick flick short but I have shit I need to do."

 

_ "Shit, sorry. I'll let you get to it then. Talk to you later." _

 

"Bye Sammy."

 

Hanging up the phone, Dean turns back to his dining room table. The papers are still there, so innocent looking. Like they aren't threatening to tear his whole world apart. With shaking hands he sits down and picks them back up. Lisa's ex-boyfriend is trying to contest his right to be Ben's guardian. He has to go in to take a paternity test since it’s only Lisa's word that Elijah is Ben's father instead of him. Not that Elijah has wanted anything to do with Ben for ten years. The man denied every invite to every party, refused to join up for family get together's, anything to get the two to interact because Lisa wanted them to know each other.

 

And now that Lisa's gone all of a sudden the dick wants 'his' kid. Ben doesn't know him and Elijah doesn’t know Ben. Dean rubs his eyes tiredly, even with Lisa's will stating her wish for Dean to have custody of Ben should she ever die and the fact that he married Lisa when Ben was six he could lose his little boy. He takes a deep shuddering breath, he hasn't feared that since he and Lisa hit a rough patch when Ben was two. The period that brought Emma into their lives. Why Elijah couldn't be like Lydia and sign away any rights he may have is beyond Dean. The worst thing is, if Elijah drags it out he may not have the money to fight. Not unless he sells some things, maybe get a second mortgage on the house. It turns his stomach but if worse comes to worse Baby, his 1967 Chevy Impala, could fetch a good amount of money. The mere thought makes Dean want to cry and rage but he will do  _ anything _ to keep Ben.

 

The sound of the door opening has Dean folding up the paper and forcing a smile on to his face. Adam takes one at Dean and raises an eyebrow. The youngest Winchester sidles up to his big brother.

 

"I know that look. That's your 'I found out something bad and don't want to tell' look. Like that time Sam’s dog got hit by a car," the nineteen-year-old Nursing student says.

 

"Is not!"

 

Dean's cell chimes with a text cutting Adam off from whatever he was about to say about Dean's denial. The oldest brother laughs.

 

"Oh, our brother has it bad," Dean tells Adam as he types out the message.

 

> To Dean:  _ It’s not too soon to text him is it? Maybe see if his kids okay? _

 

> To Sammy: _ Don’t be a pussy, take annotative little brother. Unless he just took two steps it's never too early to send a text. Hell it may make his day.  _

 

> To Dean:  _ Jerk _

 

> To Sammy:  _ Bitch _

 

Adam crosses his arms.

 

“Don’t think we won’t be talking about this. When you hide things you end up hurt. I’ve heard the stories.”

 

Dean waves his hand distractedly.

  
“I am not hiding things. Geesh you’re as suspicious Sam. Scat before I start drilling you about things.”


	7. Hospital Happenings

Crowley smiles down at his phone. When it had chimed with a simple already on the phone ding he wasn’t sure who had texted him. The sight of Sam’s name and the text fills him with warmth. Dear lord he has it bad and it hasn’t even been all that long.

 

To Crowley: _Hope your son is okay._

To Sam: From the bespotted looks given me when I announced I’m here for him, he’s okay enough to be driving them up a wall.

 

“Mister MacLeod?”

 

He looks up from his phone and smiles at the blonde nurse before him. A Miss Moore if the name tag is right?

 

“Yes?”

 

“Your son is settled in his room and ready to have visitors,” she says giving him a smile back. From what he was told when he first got here his son was in better shape than most after being sideswiped by a speeding motorist. A bit of glass had been impaled in his arm but thankfully missed the important bits. They had said it in medical words that had gone over his head until they repeated it in layman’s turns. A broken leg, arm and many bruised limbs along with a possible condition.

 

And his son, much like his mother, wasn’t one who dealt with injury silently. Crowley allows himself to admit he isn’t one to sit idle when either but he was never bad enough to make nurses want to kill him. The sight of his boy laying in a hospital bed causes his breath to catch. Gavin looks up, the left side of his face scratched up and bruising, and Crowley moves without thought. He cups his son’s face with the hand not holding his cellphone.

 

“Gavin-”

 

“They called you? Thank god. I do not want to explain to mom how the car she bought me is now unusable.”

 

Crowley raises an eyebrow.

 

“Would being hit by a speeding other party who ran a red light not work?”

 

Gavin snorts.

 

“Have you met mom?”

 

The nerves about seeing his child, even injured goes down. It’s like they’ve been transported back in time to before Gavin started hating him. It could be the drugs or it could be that he really doesn’t want to deal with his mother about the car. Crowley presses his forehead against Gavin’s before backing up and sitting down in a chair.

 

“They were worried about the glass piece but I guess it looked worse than it was and I may have been screaming like my whole arm was off,” Gavin says the smile that was there at the beginning starting to dim, “You don’t have to stay. I have to stay overnight but I’m sure I can-”

 

“Like bloody hell am I leaving you. The nurses are going to have to escort me out. I’ve already called into the publishing house saying that I’m taking some time off.”

 

He had actually texted his boss and friend stating that Gavin was hurt. His boss had then told him he had time off, the joys of being a hard worker and having a helpful boss. The look of surprise hurts a bit. They lapse into awkward talking that seems to happen in hospital rooms. Crowley doesn’t think he’s ever had a comfortable talk in one.

 

“How are you and Fiona?” Crowley asks feeling as if he’s grasping at straws. The soft smile that appears on his son’s face tells him it’s a safe topic.

 

“We’re good. Was coming home from her place actually.”

 

From there his son goes on to talk about his girlfriend. It’s easy to tell just how much his boy cares for her. Not that Crowley has been able to meet the girl. Gavin is frustratingly tight-lipped about her and hasn't brought her over to meet dear old dad.

 

“She isn’t my Mark,” Gavin says at last. He looks a mix of depressed and angry at that. Wisely Crowley doesn’t say what he normally does to that remark.

 

“She loves me, I know that. But she’s still friends with her Mark and sometimes I… I’m-”

 

“Worried that she will leave you for them?” Crowley hazards a guess. Gavin laughs mirthlessly.

 

“Scared shitless more like. I still haven’t gotten mine. And god I don’t want to turn out like you and mom.”

 

That’s a low blow.

 

“Gavin-” he cuts himself off when Gavin looks at him. Had that been what caused the divide?

 

“It’s the most common reaction to not being Marks… maybe without as many projectiles being thrown but people who aren’t Marks…”

 

“Can live happy full lives,” Crowley says thinking about the book he left in his car.

 

Gavin snorts again.

 

“I know your mother doesn’t think so… Has she, no don’t answer that. Just… don’t let Marks get in between you and Fiona. The world can only handle one charming Macleod bachelor. Two may cause the apocalypse.”

 

When his son smiles and even gives a huff of a laugh Crowley feels victorious and shoves the silly guilty thought about Sam deep in a corner of his mind. It’s beyond silly to be guilty about considering himself a bachelor, after all, they weren’t exactly dating. Or were they? His face screws up at the thoughts going on in his head. Second puberty indeed.

 

“You okay?” Gavin asks bringing him out of his thoughts.

 

“Perfectly fine.”

 

He stays until visitors hours are up. The promise to be there bright and early leaves his lips easily.

 

To Sam: A few broken bones but he’s perfectly fine. Thank you for the concern.

 

His finger hovers over the send button for a moment.

 

“Oh fuck it. I’m not some tween sticking to that stupid three-day rule.”

 

To Crowley: _That’s great to hear that he’s not hurt worse._

 

They text a bit more, and finally, Crowley understands those teens that just sit in parking spaces their faces in their phone. He almost doesn’t want to stop texting but he needs to get more food for his home. Something more than just Hamburger Helpers and Hungry Man ready meals. With a plan in mind, he prepares to have his son in his home a day earlier than planned. If this hospital visit is a precursor to the whole weekend maybe they will survive it without accusations being thrown around.


	8. In The Office

It’s been a week since Crowley ran out on their coffee date in distress and worrying about his son. The days that have passed have been spent texting and working. It’s amazing how easily a text from Crowley raises his spirits has he proves to the other love level employees that it’s not just the fact that he’s friends with a family member that got him the job. Part of Sam is grateful that Crowley still wants to talk to him despite the snafu that happened due to Sam not being used to being employed.

 

Sam had snapped awake way too soon before even his alarm went off. His heart beating like the drums of war as he realized that he started work the next day. Which meant that unless he used his lunch break he couldn’t meet Crowley at  _ Little Sips of Heaven _ . That would have been doable if his lunch “hour” wasn’t short as hell and the cafe far too way to make the trip in time. Waiting the many hours, waking up at three o’clock in the morning sucks more than stubbing your toe on a table, is killer. Sleeping was out because every time he closed his eyes for a long time he felt like he slept too long and snapped awake again. It’s fucking torture. When the clock strikes eight he’s texting Crowley.

 

> To Crowley:  _ Dude, I’m not going to be able to make it this Wednesday. _
> 
> To Crowley:  _ Completely forgot that I have to work that day. _
> 
> To Crowley:  _ New jab. New hours. _
> 
> To Crowley:  _ *job. Sorry! _

 

He automatically regrets burst texting the man nearly throwing his phone but it vibrates before he can.

 

> To Sam:  _ That’s perfectly fine. Would Saturday work? Or, if Little Sips is still open, would Sunday be better. I completely understand things like that slipping your mind. _ _   
>  _

_   
_ Compared to some of the later conversations he had with Ruby the ease at which Crowley accepted what he said was a god send. The picture that Crowley sent him after nearly had him snorting his lungs out. It was a picture of what could only be Crowley’s son. The male has his arm and leg in casts.

 

> To Sam:  _ To be perfectly honest I was afraid he wouldn’t let me go. He’s being a bit clingy. Two o’clock? _

 

It’s Wednesday and Sam is loving working at his new job. Even with the issues he occasionally has with his co workers what with him being friends with the family of the boss. The exact nature of how Lucifer is related to Castiel; actual brother or brother-in-law has always escaped Sam and his boss likes to be confusing with it as well. Things are definitely looking up.

 

“Come on Winchester! Boss wants us working with him on this case,” one of his co workers call out, he thinks her name Gilda but it could be Hannah. She’s higher up on the food chain so he jumps up and follows her quickly.

 

Lucifer smiles grimly at them as they enter the conference room. His soulmark is in plain sight and tends to make most clients smile.  _ Learn to use your damn bli- oh shit he’s hot!  _ stands out against the pale skin of Lucifer's hand.

 

“This is going to be a hard one,” he tells them tossing the files in his hands down on the table. Sam feels his stomach curdle as he looks at the list of charges their client is piling onto the other. Lying about being a soulmate is the one that jumps out to Sam but there are multiple counts of fraud, forgery, larcenous intent, obtaining a pecuniary advantage by deception, identity fraud, the list goes on. Gilda/Hannah snorts, her face twisting up in a very ugly way.

 

“What kind of person just believes that another is their soulmate and has them sign important papers! Jesus, this lady sighed the liar up for the life insurance! Complete idio-”

 

“It’s not idiocy to want to find your soulmate and share lives,” Sam cuts her off. Lucier gives them a very shark like grin.

 

“And that’s exactly why I want you two to work together on this. Your opposing views will allow you to figure out every angle that may be used against our client. Israfel, try not to eat up our newbie.”

 

Sam blinks as he looks at his co worker. Israfel was not a name that he would have guessed. At all. She gives him a look.

 

“No promises Boss.”

 

And so begins the first big case he has ever worked. Israfel is relentless as she quizzes him on his position on soulmarks and soulmates. They get so into what they are doing, bouncing ideas off of Lucifer and each other that none of them realize that time has passed. Until Sam’s phone goes off. His face flushes and he fumbles for the phone which goes off again, twice in a row. Lucifer raises an eyebrow and checks his own phone.

 

“You’re off the hook this time, Winchester. It’s time to go home.”

 

Israfel breezes out with an airy good night leaving him with Lucifer. It’s like a switch has been flipped as the power and sternness melt off of him. Instead of Sam’s boss, he is left with his best friend’s older brother.

 

“I take it that your new gentleman caller is texting you?” Lucifer asks, rolling his shoulders trying to get the stiffness out of them.

 

“Gentleman caller?” Sam asks looking down at his phone. A smile stretches across his face. Apparently, a friend of Crowley’s got a hold of his phone and the three quick messages are them fighting over the phone. One text was a pickup line that Crowley would never use, then next was an _‘ignore that an idiot got a hold of my phone’_ and the last one was _‘I am not an idiot I’m the best thing to happen to this man’_. It buzzes again this time with a picture of a long suffering Crowley and two other men. One is older, his hair white and grey with an impressive beard while the other has curly hair and what Dean calls a ‘don’t want to bother’ beard with the caption of  _*we* are the best things to happen to this man._

 

“Would you prefer that I use fuck buddy? You move fast if you are already at that stage.”

 

That gets Sam choking on air.


	9. In Comes Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday LilyAnson! I hope you like the newest chapter!

“Who is Sam?” Gavin asks in a  tone that implies boredom.

 

“A friend, why?” Crowley calls over his shoulder. He’s trying to ignore the two uninvited guests in his home. It’s Wednesday and he had planned… well, maybe not  _ planned _ but hoped to get Gavin out of the house today. It’s been a week since Gavin’s accident and the poor lad must be going out of his mind being stuck with his father and on occasions like today his father’s two friends. The early Sunday morning texts had been a blessing in disguise because of how clingy Gavin was, and still is, being and Crowley knows without a doubt that his son would have demanded to come along. And while Crowley would love to have the two mix, Gavin tends to be abrasive to those who interrupt the rare times he wants to cling to his father, his friends are just immune to the glares and general unpleasantness that Gavin oozes.

 

“Because he sent you a text. Just a hello, it’s lunchtime can talk freely now.”

 

There is a tone, no longer bored that has Crowley looking away from the pasta he is trying to cook. He had asked his son to keep his phone away from the two that had swooped into the household wanting lunch and gossip. Cain and his work friend Chuck are sitting at the same table that Gavin is trying to look like they don’t want to start a game of twenty questions. Cain perks up.

 

“You two are texting each other?”

 

“Yes. And before you ask, no I don’t need your help texting Cain. Believe it or not, I am capable of doing that.”

 

Gavin is looking at his phone like it’s a snake and if Cain and Chuck hadn’t both looked like they were plotting evil plots Crowley would have worried about it. But they do look like they are coming up with plans that often end up with all three of them hungover and praying to the porcelain goddess.

 

“How come I haven’t heard about this Sam? Cain clearly knows about him,” Chuck says with a pout.

 

“Because you gossip with that Becky woman in reception,” Crowley says primly. Becky Rosen is a woman a few cats short of a full bag. One of those people who keeps locks of secretly cut hair. The ones that turn out to be dangerous stalkers. And Chuck trades gossip with her like two old women trade recipes. Chuck pouts even more, looking to Cain.

 

“Fill me in?” he pleads.

 

“No!” Crowley exclaims right as Cain says:

 

“Of course.”

 

_ Traitor _ . Crowley looks towards the heavens and prays for patience. He really needs new friends. Instead of listening to the three behind him, Gavin isn’t pleased that he doesn’t know about Sam either, he focuses on the noodles. It’s lunchtime and Gavin wants mac and cheese. An easy to make lunch. Now if only the bloody noodles would stick when he tossed them at the walls. Did he add too much salt? One would think that making mac and cheese would be easy. He can make those ‘hamburger helper’ easily enough… or whatever those cheap meals are but no.

 

“Dad, did you add the salt before or after the water started boiling?”

 

“Does it matter?” he asks tossing one more curved noodle at the wall. When it sticks he lets out a cheer. The three behind him laugh at his enthusiasm.

 

“Guess not,” Gavin says between laughs.

 

“We almost told you to just to do it al dente,” Cain says nudging Chuck.

 

“But that wouldn’t have been as fun as watching you curse at a pot,” finishes Chuck with a laugh.

 

Crowley flips them both off, digging around for his colander so that he can drain the noodles.

 

“So this Sam is your Soulmate?” Chuck asks right as Crowley starts to drain the noodles. He jerks nearly spilling the boiling water on himself.

 

“It’s doubtful. And doesn’t matter. We’re just friends,” he says firmly carefully draining the noodles.

 

“For now,” Cain adds with an annoying eyebrow wiggle that Crowley only sees because he turned to grab the cheese sauce. Gavin has a constipated look on his face that Crowley attributes to typical child dislike of considering their parent dating anyone.

 

“Do you need pick up lines?”

 

“Certainly not from either of you. I’d rather ask Gavin then you two.”

 

With that Crowley finishes making the mac and cheese, serving a bowl to his son. The intruders can make their own bowl. Gavin stares into his bowl, jaw working and grinding but he doesn’t say anything so Crowley doesn’t press. Chuck and Cain take up most of the conversation and before long Crowley has them doing the dishes.

 

“Do you want to ditch them and head somewhere else?” Crowley pretends to whisper. His friends let out wounded sounds and his son smiles slightly.

 

“Nah. I’m just going to head up to my room. Leg is hurting.”

 

“Do you ne-”

 

“No dad, I’m fine.”

 

The air turns strained. Watching as Gavin goes into his room, Crowley knows that he’s going to have to have a sit-down talk with his son to see what’s wrong. The air was never this strained before Cain and Chuck started talking about Sam.

 

Hands on his hips, a stance that Naomi had used many times both on him and Gavin, Crowley turns to face his two trouble making friends. It's only the fact that he doesn't want to be completely like his ex that keeps him from tapping his foot.

 

“You are troublemakers. I want the real reason why you decided to come visit.”

 

“Can't two friends be worried about you?”

 

Crowley raises an eyebrow at Cain who raises his hands in surrender.

 

“You weren't at work,” Chuck mutters, “and Becky said that you wouldn't be in for a while. When I asked why she said that Gavin was dead and you were grieving! So I rushed over to Cain’s to see if she was right.”

 

“She wasn't. Probably misheard your boss but me and Colette had to calm down Chuck. It took some convincing.”

 

“Hey, Crowley has been my agent forever and he never misses work. He came in with pneumonia once!”

 

Cain ignores Chuck and continues on with his tale.

 

“Once we calmed him down, Colette sent me and him here with a plate of cookies.”

 

There is a distinct lack of cookies that tell Crowley that they ate all the cookies on the way here and that Cain is going to be in trouble when he gets home. He sighs fondly, shaking his head.

 

Time passes slowly after that. His day goes on much like it had for the past week; him cleaning the house and making sure that Gavin takes his pain medication plus any other needs of his son are met to the fullest. The two intruders make themselves useful, even if he protests. It's one thing for them to clean dishes that they dirtied and a completely different thing for them to dust and vacuum his home. 

 

“I’m taking you both out for di- you read Novak’s books?” 

 

Crowley and Gavin both turn to stare at Chuck. It's nearly ten o’clock at night, both of them had forgotten dinner. Gavin because he fell asleep as per usual when he takes medication and Crowley because his guests were good at distracting him. They take out menus the two MacLeod’s were going over are wrinkled and well loved. Chuck is holding up the book he borrowed from Cain, a shocked look on his face.

 

“Just that book. He has more?”

 

Gavin gives his dad a once over.

 

“He has a whole completed series, dad. And he's starting a new one.”

 

“Calling four books a series seems-”

 

“We are not going to argue over semantics,” Crowley cuts in. Both Chuck and Gavin pout.

 

“Still can't believe you- oh! This is the book that you borrowed from Cain to impress Sam. He never did mention the title.”

 

“You mentioned dinner?”

 

He's not avoiding talking about this in front of his son. He's not. It's not uncomfortable at all that the man who has starred in many of his dreams is just a few years older than his son. Nope! His redirection is easy to see through but thankfully no one brings it up.

 

They go out, nowhere fancy just some fast food place that has Gavin’s face lighting up as he enjoys the greasy goodness that his girlfriend is apparently trying to wean him off of.

 

Later, after Gavin is back in his bedroom, the Novak book tucked under his arm, and Crowley is making them all something warm and alcoholic does he realize that Chuck and Cain are being too quiet.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” He asks with clipped tones, the tray in his hands placed harshly on his coffee table. Chuck grins and holds out a cellphone, Crowley's cellphone. There is a text that isn't like the others.

 

> To Sam:  _ Is your name Google? Because you're everything I’m looking for. _

 

Crowley snatches his phone away to send another text.

 

> To Sam:  _ Ignore that, an idiot got a hold of my phone. _

 

Chuck fights for the phone and when he sees the phone sends another text. Most likely to defend his honor before tossing the phone to Cain.

 

“Really?” Crowley asks a long-suffering look on his face.

 

“Just sit down,” Cain says patting the seat between him and Chuck. Crowley does so, taking a cup with him. Once he is settled Cain leans into his space as does Chuck. It takes a moment to realize why and by then it's too late to stop Cain from sending the picture to Sam.

 

“If he's going to stick around he needs to get used to our craziness,” Cain states handing over his cellphone.

 

“I hate you both.”

 

“No, you don't.”

 

His phone buzzes.

 

> To Crowley:  _ It's fine. Made my boss realize the time and let us go. Looks like you need something stronger than coffee to deal with those two. _

 

Maybe he doesn't completely hate his two friends.

 

 

 


	10. Fessing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is a right pain in the ass to write. Hopefully, his reaction doesn't seem over the top! Feel free to point out if it does or if you have any other quibbles about it.

Slowly he blinks awake, his subconscious telling him something is up, and nearly screams himself raw. Looming above him like some great brooding wraith of the underworld is his son. For a terrifying moment, Crowley is sure his life is about to end. That his son has decided that Crowley's mothering has been too much and it's time to smother the life out of him.

 

“Why did you avoid talking about Sam?” Gavin asks lowly.

 

“I... wait... what?” not his most eloquent moment but Crowley has never claimed to be a morning person who can tackle talking right after being scared awake.

 

“Don't play stupid. You glossed over it when Cain brought it up and then you completely changed the subject when Chuck mentioned you trying to impress him. Is he married? Are you worried that I will be upset that you like a guy?” Gavin presses looking betrayed.

 

“I'm not worried about you being homophobic or, even as the case may be for me, biphobic. Talking with your child about your own love life or lack of is hard. I've known Sam a short amount of time. Weeks. Not enough to go around sprouting declarations of emotions.”

 

There, that was much better. Good job brain. Gavin doesn't look like he believes his father at all.

 

“Do you like him? Think he's hot?”

 

“Why do you want to know.”

 

Gavin hunches up on himself.

 

“I want to know more about you.”

 

And now Crowley feels like shit.

 

“Forget it.”

 

He reaches out and grabs his son's hand. With a deep breath, he starts talking.

 

“I find Sam to be very aesthetically pleasing. He has soft looking hair, he's tall, has a nice ass. Doesn't mind me not being a believer in Soulmarks despite loving the things. The two times we've talked face to face we've debated the pros and cons of them,” his words are cut off with a yawn. Tiredly he glances at the clock and winces. Two o'clock in the morning. He's barely been asleep for an hour. Children are evil. As if just realizing the time Gavin winces.

 

“Shit. Sorry. I'll let you get some sleep.”

 

It takes about six weeks for a broken bone to heal. Five more weeks. It's going to feel like forever if Gavin insists on these late night visits. Sleepily he watches as his son leaves his room. When he's alone he curls up on his side and covers his head with a pillow. Only death shall wake him now.

 

Or his alarm clock that's set to go off at eight, which is when his son needs his next dose of medication. He whines low in his throat and stumbles out of bed. The smell of coffee is thick in the air and when he finally reaches his kitchen there is a glorious sight waiting for him.

 

Coffee and food. All nice and set aside for him.

 

“I'm in love!”

 

“Not my type. Sorry, Crowley. I like them a bit tougher looking but still wanting someone to take the control from them,” Chuck says from by his oven.

 

“That... that is more than what I wanted to know about you,” Gavin says and Crowley has to agree. He loves Chuck like he loves Cain but way too much information.

 

“Too much information would be me telling you what toys I li-”

 

“Chuck!” Cain scolds from where he is standing. A coffee cup is clutched tightly in his hands. The older man looks like he had one too many cups of spiked cocoa that Crowley had made them last night. Chuck smiles at them.

 

“As you wish.”

 

Gavin looks at him.

 

“Your friends aren't as cute as they think they are.”

 

“I agree.”

 

The shouts of denial that gets them makes the two MacLeod's laugh. When the guests leave to go to their own homes leaving Crowley alone with his son the older man comes up with a plan.

 

“How would you like to get out of the house? Maybe go get some coffee that is something more than just Folgers.”

 

“You don't drink Folgers. The Christmas commercial freaked you out and you swore off the coffee,” Gavin answers not looking up from the book he is reading. Crowley pauses. Had he? Quietly he goes to his cabinet to check and see what brand he has. Not Folgers. Huh.

 

“Nevertheless. Good not bought at a supermarket coffee?”

 

Gavin looks up at him.

 

“Sure?” he drags out the 'u' in the word.

 

“Brilliant. And maybe we can continue the conversation from this morning.”

 

That gets Gavin up and moving like he expected it too.

 

Gabriel isn't manning the counter when they show up to  _ Little Sips of Heaven _ and Crowley doesn't know if he should be worried or relieved that the face that is almost always there isn't. Gavin settles down in on of the booths.

 

“Something chocolatey and coma-inducing.”

 

“Your girlfriend is going to kill me when she finds out I'm not sticking to her diet plan for you.”

 

“I won't tell her.”

 

With a head shake, Crowley goes up to the counter and orders for the both of them. He also gets one of the overlarge cinnamon rolls for them to share.

 

“So, Sam?” Gavin asks as soon as he sits down. Crowley fidgets for a moment, gather his thoughts. Really, it should be easier to talk about this. It's not like they are dating.

 

“He's younger than me.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“A lot younger... almost fresh out of college younger.”

 

There he said it. Gavin doesn’t say anything, just stares at him.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“He’s… twenty-six if I recall right. A lawyer. He’s got a brilliant mind-”

 

“He’s twenty-six? Dad… That’s like four years older than I am… That’s… that’s…”

 

Words seem to fail his son. Crowley watches as a range of emotions roll over his son’s face. He takes a fortifying breath and continues. Tells him how it’s possible that Sam is his Soulmate but that he’s trying to get to know Sam before broaching the subject with the younger man.

 

“He’s four years older than me!”

 

“Yes, he is,” he concurs with his son, wincing at the high pitch his son’s voice reaches. And in the face of his son Crowley sees all the reasons why he hasn’t hoped for much. Sam is younger than him, young enough to be his son even. And while the other male isn’t below the age of consent it’s still a large gap.


End file.
